The World Trues Itself

i am writing despite the fact that ive been in front of the computer all day at work. i have the desire for fluencey. to write with ease. and here it is. but work is good. its like working out. you have to sweat a little to make it happen.

my friend kea is moving back to the states. she got to Buenos Aires 2 days before me, so you can imagine how long she's been there and the transition shes about to go through. she's worried about the reentry.

I told her, "you will fly for at least a month
on newness and strangeness and summer. the scent of flowers and
expanse. and there must be a reason. hold on to it like a tiny hand of
an infant."

i was waiting on this adorable family on the first
beautiful day on the outside patio of 126 and the tiniest girl reached
out and grabbed my hand. i was so disarmed that i stopped my usual
suave soft talking waitress voice and just looked clearly at her
through our sun squints and said, "hello. you have a tiny hand."

and so everything has a reason.

if for no other reason, i was supposed to come back to meet a poet.
Her name is sarah and is marrying deon kay which rhymes with may and she calls "d" and he will say "i do" with the greatest south
african accent under a willow tree in ohio. Here is one of her poems
that she foolishly traded me for a morning tour of my argentina
photos.


Stuttersight

An unwound world seeks its berm. The fine edge of sight, almost but
not quite fluid. A man holds up his hands a little apart and says look
here. Whole worlds are folded in breast pockets, pocket watch,
thaumatrope. On a string between, pulled taut, it spins. What cannot
be proven in time (blink, you're still, trust me) is the fact of a
toy. Here is a man who lost his hair. Here is a homeless toupee. Here
is an ocean without its heart. A body without its sky. The world trues
itself. Watch, he says. Here is a beginning without an end and even
though you'd like to, you can't see it any other way.



I have been typing all day long. translating and translating. the
strange thing is the keys look like "american" keys, but its set to be
a spanish keyboard. so really, ( = ) and - = ? and @=alt64 and ;=that
letter in "year" its something of a mind game, its all in code. i had
my first article published yesterday. i feel that im running on pure
willpower sometimes. I can do it purely because i say i can. not
because i actually can, which is different. except one makes the other
one true. eventually.

and im sleeping on air. an air matress actually and something im
allergic to keeps trying to stick its paws under the door. i feel
guilty about it but not really as i languidly sprawl out on the sun
drenched air like a cat.

yesterday i stalked around a march. these are my photos.